One Woman's Fight
by AbiMF
Summary: Series 4 finale. After she got that text, we all know Rachel went straight back to school, but what was running through her head? Contains femmeslash, please read the Author's note x


_**AN:**__ Okay, this needs a LOT of explanation. This was originally written for another site I was a member of, as an off-shoot of a much longer Rachel/Steph fic I had going, which is I know a bit of a crazy idea in itself but it arrived one day and just wouldn't leave me alone lol. That is why, in this, there is an established Rachel/Steph relationship, and therefore some very VERY light femmeslash. Anyone still here? Lol, if you are, then this is set in the last episode of series 4, and leave a review if you want. Concrit is welcomed, abuse just because of subject matter, not so much :P x_

**One Woman's Fight **

I'm stood here, waiting for a taxi to flag down, and I don't understand. I really, truly, do not understand this. Two minutes ago I was sat in a huge hall, listening to our school choir, _my_ school choir, perform. And goodness knows it's been a tough day today, but it seemed like it was all going to work out okay. Because somehow, and I have no idea how, they really have pulled it out of the bag.

I smile slightly at the thought, but that smile quickly falters and dies away, because that's not where I am now. Now, I'm throwing myself into a taxi, shouting Waterloo Road at the driver as I close the door behind me and wishing, hoping that I'll get there in time. And the images, the images running through my head; images of destruction; those I can almost deal with, but not these, because I know who's in there. Eddie, and probably Philip and Melissa too, and what if it isn't just the school that Ralph intends to hurt? Because this is personal, I know that, I could hear it in his voice on the phone as he yelled at me. And he's drunk, very drunk from the way he was slurring his words, and angry, and behind a ton of metal. And what if Eddie or Phil or Melissa get in the way? I have to screw my eyes up tight against the tears that threaten at this thought, and yet another one slips unbidden through my mind: _'Thank God Steph's safe with the choir._

I instantly feel awful, and have to take a couple of breaths to calm myself before I feel able to open my eyes and look around again. The driver must have heard the urgency in my voice because I'm sure we're driving above the speed limit, and I'm so thankful. It suddenly occurs to me that I probably don't have enough money to pay him, but then the thought is eclipsed by those images again, this time it's Eddie, and he's lying unconscious on the floor. And I know it's not safe, but I have to get to him, I have to get him out, and it's so so smoky, and I don't know why, and I'm terrified, but I have to get him out, and then I can hear the crack, and I know what's going to happen even before the blinding pain…

"Are you alright love?" The driver's voice is concerned and my eyes instantly snap open as I curse myself for allowing myself to relive that awful awful day yet again, particularly in these circumstances. I have to keep a clear head, it's the only way.

It suddenly occurs to me that the driver's still waiting for an answer and I meet his eyes in the rear-view mirror, attempting a shaky smile, "Y..yeah, I'm fine." My voice is small, and shaking, and it sounds nothing like me at all. Even when I panic my voice normally remains strong, but now I'm suddenly straining to make myself heard, and I'm so, so scared, because what if…

My thoughts continue to spiral for the entire journey, so that by the time we actually pull into the school gates I'm physically shaking, and all I can think about is how I must protect Eddie and Melissa and Philip and the school. I can't let Ralph Mellor win. I just can't. It's then that we turn the corner, and I see the rubble and Ralph in that awful huge machine, a machine that only spells death and destruction for me at that moment in time.

And then I'm running, throwing the taxi door open and running, my bag falling from suddenly limp fingers as I go. It's a strange feeling actually, a mixture of panic and relief as I spot three of the four most important people to me stood safe and yet the school, _my_] school in ruins, it makes my head spin and for a moment I think I might collapse from the sheer volume of emotion, but I'm still running, running as fast as I can and I reach the machine, that ugly yellow lump of metal.

And suddenly I'm angry, furious even at Ralph bloody Mellor and what he thinks he can do to my school. And I bang on the side, the hard metal bruising my hands and wrists, and a sharp piece of metal catches the side of my finger and I feel the heat of blood escaping but I don't care, because suddenly I know what I have to do. I have to make him stop. I look up at him, my eyes meeting his slightly crazed ones, shouting at the top of my voice, "This stops, right now."

He laughs, looking away from me as he returns his attention to the school, and I move without thinking, hearing the distant sounds of the coach entering the school as I do so but paying no attention to it as I stand in front of him, spreading out my arms in an attempt to make him stop. I can hear Melissa shouting out in the background, screaming as though in agony, she's being so stupid, it's not as though he'd actually hurt me. I can see it in his eyes, in insecurity. He's angry, but not that angry.

I see the coach enter behind, but what I don't see is the blonde woman sat near the front. I don't see her expression turn to shock as she notices the damage to the school, and then pure fear as she sees where I'm stood. I don't see her leap out of her seat, but I do see her move to the door, trying to open it even as the coach is slowing. I flick my eyes back to Ralph, and suddenly I'm terrified. The former fear and insecurity I saw there is gone, to be replaced by determination. Almost as if in slow motion I see his hand reach towards the lever.

This is it, I realise, as panic overcomes me. I need to move, to run out of the way, I might even have just enough time but I can't move, frozen where I am by that terrible look in his eyes. I'm going to die. Here, where I nearly died exactly a year ago. Only this time, I probably won't be so lucky. No one can survive massive injuries twice. And that's what will happen when his hand reaches that lever in just a fraction of a second's time. And my sister, and nephew, and best friend, and all my students are here, and they're going to have to witness it. I want to call out to them, to get them to shield their eyes, but I can't.

And then I see Steph, and if I was afraid before it's nothing to what I feel now. Because she's running towards me, stumbling painfully in her heels but still running, and she's too fast. She's going to get here before he's stopped. If Ralph hurts me, even if he kills me, then that's okay. Because I'm protecting my school. But not Steph, I suddenly find myself begging a God I don't believe in, not noticing that my own personal saviour is wrenching open the door and sealing my fate, please, _please not Steph._

And then it's silent. I look up in confusion, and there is Eddie, keys in hand as he moves quickly away from a bleeding Ralph. And then I'm distracted again, as the woman I was only moments ago begging for the life of reaches my side, and in that split second I don't care about anything but her. I don't care that my little sister is pregnant with my best friend's baby, having broken said best friend's heart. I don't care that Ralph Mellor has just knocked down half my school. I don't care whether we won the choir competition, and I don't even care that every student who went to the competition is stood less than a hundred yards away, their eyes on my and the woman by my side.

I don't care what they think, or what they will say, and I find myself turning, wrapping my arms around her as hers wrap around me, staggering together away from the scene of destruction as our lips meet in a desperate kiss. I'm crying, and she's crying, and suddenly my legs can't support me any more and she must feel the same because we're find ourselves sat on the concrete, legs and arms entangled as we grip onto each other, both afraid to let go. She meets my eyes, and her expression is a mixture of love, and relief, and pain and anger, and I wince as she speaks the words in a shaking voice, "What were you doing Rachel?"

I shake my head, the tears now falling freely down my cheeks as the possibility for tragedy truly hits me, "I don't know." I admit, and then she's pulling me close, and I'm holding her so tightly it must be painful but she doesn't complain, and the moment turns to one of sobbing and muttered _'I love you'_s and it suddenly doesn't matter that we've neither of us said it before because it's so true it almost doesn't need saying. But I want to say it, I have to say it because for a moment there I thought I might never get a chance to.

The scene must be ridiculous, a smartly dressed head-teacher and her head of French, dressed up from the competition she's just been to, sitting sobbing in each other's arms in the rubble of the school we both love so much. The shock must have worn off, because I can hear the cat-calls beginning and I know that there will be phones out and students taking pictures. And in a moment, I'm going to have to stand up and be Miss Mason, head-teacher. And I'm going to have to explain why half the school is missing, and get everyone home safely, and attempt to explain my relationship with the woman in my arms to a bunch of teenagers who still use the word 'gay' as an insult. And in a few days time, there will be a board meeting, and they will try to fire me over this. But that is then, and right now, for just a few more precious seconds, I don't want to be Miss Mason. Right now, I can be Rachel Mason, a terrified woman who just needs a few moments with the woman she loves.

And as I sit there, it suddenly occurs to me; that's okay. Because this doesn't have to be just _my_ fight, anymore. I look across, smiling somewhat weakly at Steph as I do so. She must have seen my insecurity because she reaches out, brushing my hair back tenderly from face, brushing my tears away as she does so, and allowing the final thought to track through my mind; I never have to do this alone again.


End file.
